


The Warmth of the Season

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [71]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, De-Aged Castiel (Supernatural), De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean/Cas Secret Santa, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Sam Feels, Schmoop, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: Not for the first time since the hunt had gone disastrously bizarre, Sam wondered at the strangeness of his life.But the truth remained: it was Christmas Eve, Dean and Castiel were physically and mentally five years old, and they would stay that way until Sam found the cure.





	The Warmth of the Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [momstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/momstiel/gifts).



> I fulfilled the prompt: "Dean and Cas are de-aged for the holidays by a witch, and a frantic Sam is doing everything he can to get them back to normal before Christmas morning."
> 
> I do so love de-aged fics! The potential for kid cuteness is just too good! Hope you enjoy this! :)
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, delicious-irony!

Not for the first time since the hunt had gone disastrously  _bizarre_ , Sam wondered at the strangeness of his life. He had not expected Christmas Eve to be like this - in fact, he hadn’t expected them to come close to celebrating Christmas at all. No one was really in the mood after the painful Mark of Cain business, and with Castiel staying in the bunker with them, Sam thought they’d just spend the night before the holiday hanging out, the three members of Team Free Will or whatever, laughing at crappy television.

But that was not meant to be, at least not according to a witch whose powerful spell had knocked both Dean and Castiel on their asses, leaving Sam to research the counter-curse when she vanished into thin air. 

Hunched over a tome at the library table, Sam sighed as yet another round of childish giggling burst out from behind him. He rubbed his temples, weary but amused. “I thought you guys were going to play hide and seek.”  _With each other,_ he added in his head.

“We are,” piped a small voice.

“Shh, Cas, you’re not s’pposed to talk when you’re hiding!”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

But Sam couldn’t quite fight off the smile at Castiel’s terrible stage-whisper. Sam spun in his chair and caught a glimpse of the pair of them peeking around the door frame. They quickly pressed themselves back out of sight. 

It was odd seeing them so small. Sam had hoped the spell would’ve worn off by now, but apparently not. 

Dean and Castiel were physically and mentally five years old, and would stay that way until he found the cure.

Sam rolled his eyes as he stood. “Boy, I sure wonder where Dean and Cas are.” He made a show of meandering to the doorway, pointedly not looking at them. He lifted a trash can and tilted it upside-down. “Are they in here? Nope.”

More muffled giggles.

“Are they above the bookcase?” Sam stretched up high to peer at the top of the dusty shelves. “Nope, not there. Hmm…”

“We’re right here, Sam!” Castiel said as he jumped out of his and Dean’s hiding spot. 

Sam feigned surprise when Dean joined Castiel in the doorway, wide grins splitting their faces. 

“Haha, we got you!” Dean pointed at Sam, triumphant. He was missing several teeth, and one was loose - which he never got tired of showing off. 

Both he and Castiel were in hand-me-downs Sam had picked up from the closest Goodwill. Their clothes had transformed with them, but as Sam quickly learned, they were not afraid to get dirty. They needed extra outfits, pronto.

And if he had thought shopping for children’s clothes was weird, it was nothing compared to trying to  _parent_  his older brother and an Angel of the Lord. They were a menace in the store, or well, Dean was. Dean wanted to show Castiel everything, and together they made a huge mess of the toy section until Sam caught up with them and lugged them to the counter to pay. He didn’t bother to get them to try anything on first; he shuddered at the idea. 

So yes, the clothes were slightly baggy, but they were kids and they didn’t care at all - even though Sam had bought them garish Christmas sweaters: Rudolph for Dean, and Frosty the Snowman for Castiel. 

Revenge was sweet, and Sam made sure to take as many photos as possible. 

“I’m hungry,” Dean said, and he turned to poke Castiel. “You hungry?”

Castiel patted his belly, frowning. Sam had to stifle a laugh. 

Since getting turned, Castiel seemed more confused than anything. He was ungainly as a human child, and though he sort of remembered being an angel, he couldn’t activate his powers. The littlest things surprised or baffled him, and Dean had taken on the role of caretaker, wanting to guide Castiel through the strange world they found themselves in.

Sam had to admit it was cute, and definitely very  _Dean_. After all, his obsession with Castiel wasn’t new.

“Do you guys want grilled cheese?” Sam asked. 

Dean cheered. “YEAH! Race you to the kitchen!” He zoomed off with Castiel scowling after him, a powerful sulk on his face. 

Castiel sidled up to Sam, then grabbed his hand. 

“I guess we’ll let Dean win, huh?” Sam asked as they padded to the kitchen at a slower pace. Castiel nodded. 

When they entered the kitchen, Dean flaunted his victory with his tongue sticking out, then seemed to notice Castiel’s grumpiness. He hurried to hug his friend, and Sam snuck out his phone to take a video of them giggling as they rocked back and forth in each other’s arms. 

So much amazing blackmail, honestly. He just hoped they wouldn’t be stuck like this forever.

The three of them sat and ate grilled cheese - Dean and Castiel’s cut up into kid-sized bites. As Dean and Castiel munched on their stringy goodness, their legs swinging high above the floor, it occurred again to Sam that it was, in fact, Christmas Eve. 

A wistful smile tugged at his lips. He had to make this one good. After all, when would Dean and Castiel ever again experience another Christmas like this, as carefree children? But what could he do?

“Was that good?” Sam asked when they’d finished. He smirked. “I guess you liked it, huh Dean?” There were barely any crumbs left on the kid’s plate.

Dean puffed up proudly, and Castiel hesitated before offering his last piece of grilled cheese to Dean. 

“You can have mine. I’m not hungry anymore.”

Dean shoved it in his mouth before Sam could blink.

He bit back a sigh. “Did you say thank you, Dean?”

Dean’s cheeks were puffed up in a disconcertingly familiar way, but he slumped his shoulders and swallowed. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sam cleared their plates and made sure they drank the rest of their milk. “Tonight’s a special night, and I thought we could celebrate. Who wants to build a blanket fort?”

Dean’s hand shot into the air. “Me! Me!”

Castiel stared at him, puzzled. “Why did you raise your hand?”

“Haven’t you never been to school before?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well, you raise your hand when you wanna say something.” Dean glanced at Sam. “Right?”

“Very good.” 

Dean beamed. Sam wondered about his memories at this age - by this point, their mom was already dead and they were off on the road with their dad. But it seemed that Dean recalled going to preschool, so maybe the witch had helped him craft a gentler childhood mindset? It was a kindness, at least.

“How do you build a blanket fort?” Castiel asked, his expression pinched with seriousness. 

“I’ll show you.” Sam guided them to the linen closet, where they hauled out as many blankets as they could carry - which wasn’t many for Dean and Castiel, who managed one between the both of them, even though they tripped over the long ends.

In the war room, Sam set up a train of chairs and pillows. Then, with the kids pretending they were ghosts under the blankets, Sam draped the fabric over the wooden structures until a hollow appeared underneath. 

“Now we’re ‘splorers!” Dean said as he crawled through with Castiel in tow. 

“It’s like a cave,” Castiel said, his mouth open in wonder.

Sam left them to play in the fort while he brewed some hot chocolate and marshmallows. It was nothing special, just hot cocoa from a mix, but he thought they’d like the sweet drink. As he let the liquid cool, he browsed his phone for a copy of  _‘Twas the Night Before Christmas_. He scanned the first few lines, and smiled to himself. 

A long time ago, Dean had been the one to read this to him. They were in a grotty motel room, alone, and it was snowing outside so the world was hushed. It was like he and Dean were the only people who existed. 

And though his big brother stumbled over some words, Sam would never get over the magic of that night and those words. Dean had given him something he’d never really gotten for himself: a true Christmas. 

If Sam hadn’t been so concerned about the curse, or trying to wrangle a bunch of five-year-olds, he might’ve tried harder to give that back to Dean in a more embellished fashion - a Christmas tree, ornaments, caroling, TV specials, the works. 

But this kind of intimate gathering? Maybe this was more important. 

Besides, neither Dean nor Castiel had brought up Christmas, and he didn’t know what they believed. He didn’t exactly have presents for them either, though as he thought about it, he could make some silly pancakes in the morning, and put on Batman cartoons later. 

Sam’s smile grew. Yeah, that sounded good. That would be a great Christmas morning for their little family.

He returned to the fort with their drinks and his phone in hand, and awkwardly climbed his way under the canopy. As Dean and Castiel sipped at their cocoa, Sam read aloud the famous poem and brought some Christmas spirit to their old bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. 

Sam really got into the reading and the cadence, and only when he got to the end did he realize that Dean and Castiel had fallen asleep, curled up together on a pillow. Sam spread an extra blanket over the both of them, his heart warm in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

Maybe he’d be a good dad, someday.

The thought came unbidden, and for the first time, he didn’t immediately recoil from it. To be truthful, it wasn’t a future he envisioned anymore, but he wouldn’t write it off, not yet. 

In jolly spirits, Sam left the snoozing pair to head back to the library. He stopped in the doorway, his vision already fuzzy just imagining the headache of trying to read all night. 

And you know what? It was Christmas Eve, and for a rookie, he’d done a damn fine job of taking care of two small kids for a few days. Sure, he was exhausted - he fully expected Dean or Castiel or both to wake him up before dawn, especially if they got scared waking up under a strange ceiling - but the aches in his shoulders and the heaviness in his limbs felt good, in a way. A job well done. 

They were safe, they were healthy, they were alive. What more could he want?

So instead of killing himself to research the counter-curse, Sam decided to go to bed early. Tomorrow was another day, Christmas Day, and as far as he could tell, the world wouldn’t end if Dean and Castiel remained children for a little while longer. 

* * *

Dean cringed as he awoke, his eyes still closed. His shoulders were stiff, his legs were entwined in something warm, and the air was stale. Was he lying on the floor underneath someone’s bed?

He opened his eyes and panicked at the sight of the ceiling dripping down on him, and the sides pressing in. When he jerked, he smacked his funny bone into some kind of wooden pole that made his arm go numb. He twisted and a man grunted beneath him, their legs tangled.

Propped up on his good elbow, Dean stared down at Castiel beneath him. Castiel’s blue eyes were wide, and his mouth agape. 

“What the fuck,” Dean said, and tried to get off the angel but only succeeded in knocking his back into yet another hard surface. He winced in pain and gazed around. Were they…under a table?

Finally, he managed to tug his legs free. When he flailed upright, the ceiling–a  _blanket_ –fluttered onto his head, and realization dawned.

He and Castiel were under a  _blanket fort_. 

With a kick, he scraped back one of the chairs and crawled out of the oppressively hot air, collapsing one of the fort’s walls behind him. As he gulped for breath in the dim lighting of the bunker’s war room, he glanced back at the structure and wondered, yet again, what the  _fuck_  was going on. 

“Dean?” Castiel planted himself where the chair had been and lifted a flap of the blanket, his cheeks rosy and his tousled hair sticking up with static electricity. He was wearing some sort of hideous Christmas sweater, and Dean groaned when he gripped his chest and realized he wore something similar. 

“ _Sam_ ,” he muttered, because this had to be a practical joke. It just had to be. 

But Castiel appeared thoughtful, and didn’t move out from under the fort. “Do you remember…?” He scowled, then rubbed his stomach. “I was smaller, before.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean demanded just before vague memories assaulted him. 

He remembered Sam towering above him, and being afraid until joy filled him at the sight of his best friend, Cas, who looked so lost and scared that Dean knew he had to take care of him. He recalled silly games in the bunker, annoying Sam, and…hugging Castiel a lot, like he refused to let him go.

Dean ducked his head, embarrassed. “Oh. Yeah. How…?”

“It must’ve been a spell. A witch. Ah yes, we were on a hunt, remember?”

“Barely.” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “So we were kids and now we’re not.” A memory struck him of Sam’s storytime the night before, and he huffed. “It’s a Christmas miracle.” Still, he made a mental note to figure out how the curse had broken so mysteriously. But that would be later.

“Indeed.” Castiel smiled, and it was a small, but beautiful thing that lit up his whole face. When he was a child, Dean had liked to make Cas smile and laugh as much as possible. 

He cleared his throat, and his voice came out gruff. “Should we go wake Sam?”

Castiel tilted his head, considering. “No, I think he’s had quite enough the past few days. We should let him sleep.”

Dean craned up to view the time on the nearest clock. It was a little past dawn. He’d gotten far more than his normal four hours, but kids needed to sleep longer, right?

“Are you still tired?” Castiel asked as Dean yawned.

He shrugged. “I guess?”

“Perhaps we should get some more rest, then.”

“Yeah.” Dean started to get up, intent on his bedroom, but Castiel wriggled the blanket flap over his head and nodded inside. Dean’s cheeks heated up, and his mouth went dry. “Are you…are you sure?” 

“Dean.”

It was like a command. Dean followed Castiel back under the fort, where there was hardly room for two full-grown men. The only way to make it work was if they sprawled on their sides facing each other, their legs intertwined. 

They shared a pillow, and though Dean’s shoulders protested lying on the floor, he couldn’t move, not with Castiel so close. Their morning breath mingled, and Dean no longer felt claustrophobic in the small space. Instead, they inhabited a warm cocoon. Neither spoke in the silence, and Dean’s eyelids grew heavy, especially when Castiel scooted even closer so they were crushed together. Part of him wanted to protest, but he was too cozy. A sense of safety, and a quiet simmering joy filled him. 

It was just like when when they were under the curse. Castiel's presence calmed him as a child, and he never felt better than with the angel at his side. Now, those feelings were deeper, rooted in a part of him he was just starting to acknowledge. 

Before dropping off to sleep, the rustle of fabric echoed, and soft lips pressed to Dean's forehead. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Dean sighed in his angel's arms. "Merry Christmas, Cas."


End file.
